


Year One

by dimeadozen



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Loving Marriage, Marriage, Romance, Romantic Fluff, marriage life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeadozen/pseuds/dimeadozen
Summary: Nathan and Elena's first year together is a dream come true. However, no marriage is safe from unexpected thrills and qualms. Along the way, they continuously remember why they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives.
Relationships: Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Welcome Home

The Lousiana suburban neighborhood was a far cry from the exotic, bustling streets of Thailand. Nevertheless, this is now the home to Nathan and Elena Drake-Fisher. The newlyweds look upon their new home with proud, lazy smiles; Nathan’s arms snake around Elena’s shoulders, holding her close to his chest as he aimlessly sways. For once, the two adventurers found acceptance in retiring from the life of thrills and treasure hunting. Nathan lowers his chin to kiss Elena’s soft cheek, whispering the words, “Welcome home,” into her ear.

Elena turns to face Nathan, her now-husband; the idea felt surreal. From the start of the wedding, the whole marriage process felt like a dream, one she didn’t want to wake up from. This had been their goal since Nathan proposed all those years ago, but his fantasies got the better of him. Elena never held it against Nathan for making her wait. She wanted him to come to her when he felt ready. Despite her fears along the way, Elena never doubted Nathan.

“We bought a house,” Elena’s tone hitches as her shoulders shrug in her tamed elation. 

“We certainly did,” Nathan replies, looking down at his wife.

Wow, he finally can call Elena his wife. How cool will that sound when Nathan introduces Elena as his Wife? Not his girlfriend, not his very close friend, and definitely not last year’s model. Elena Drake-Fisher, wife. As Nathan admires his wife, he fell into a sea of scenarios where he can use the word wife. He never wants to stop saying it. ‘This is Elena, my wife. Oh, have you met my wife? That beautiful lady? Yeah, she’s my--’

“Wife,” Nathan whispers.

“What?” 

“Huh?”

Elena chuckles at Nathan’s quirky personality. No matter his age, he will always have his head in the clouds, far from this world. She will always love his wild imagination. Elena lifts her hands to cup Nathan’s cheeks, pushing up onto her toes, gracing him with a soft smooch. “Thank you, Nate.”

“Hmm, who knew you were so mushy,” Nathan teases, leaning forward to steal another kiss.

Elena drops down on her heels, “Really? This coming from the guy who puts flowers in his journals?”

“Hey, those are pretty flowers.”

“Uh-huh,” Elena understood what Nathan meant. Underneath his bravado, Nathan harbored a romantic, loving heart. He rarely opens himself up to the world; even with Sully, he denies the most basic affection in a father-son relationship. That is how Nathan works, and Elena wasn’t about to force him to become someone he’s not based on a title. She softly taps on Nathan’s chest to ground the interaction, “So, are you going to carry me across the threshold?”

Without a single word of reply, Nathan sweeps Elena off the ground and into his arms. He cradles her close, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. If an asteroid crash-landed in their city, neither would have noticed. Nathan strolls up the concrete pathway and onto the small porch of their home. Elena, never letting her eyes off Nathan, reaches to the doorknob and twists it open. Nathan takes a step across the threshold, his mouth opening to boast about how great of a husband he is when suddenly, Elena’s head bumps against the doorframe.

“Oh crap,” Nathan says, lowering his wife to the ground. He quickly lifts a hand to finger at the growing bump on her skull. “Elena, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Softly, Elena chuckles, looking up to Nathan with warm eyes. “It’s cute when you worry about me like that as if I haven’t been shot at, fallen off a cliff, been hit by a grenade, attacked by zombies--”

“Okay, okay,” Nathan rolls his eyes, his hands lifting to his hips. He takes a pause and looks down to Elena, “You think I’m cute?”

“The cutest,” she replies, “so, how about we break in the bedroom, Mr. Drake?”

“The bed isn’t set up yet,” he corrects her, closing and locking the front door behind him.

“Well, we’ll just use the couch then,” Elena purrs, her fingers crawling up Nathan’s abdomen.

“The couch arrives tomorrow night.”

Elena pouts, her fingers falling flat against his abs, “I guess we’ll just use the kitchen.” 

On her toes, she turns to walk down the front hallway seductively. Her hips slowly sway, and she looks over her shoulder with sensual bedroom eyes. Nathan feels the heat burning up in his stomach with just a look, and he curses Elena for making him feel so much in so little. He takes the time to admire her backside, and respectfully, undressing her with his eyes. Once his eyes have their fill, he takes off his henley and stalks after her.

“That’s one way to use the kitchen,” he quips.


	2. Welcome to Normal

The tiled floor isn’t Nathan’s choice of comfort, yet the thrill of spontaneity overrides all his complaints. He wiggles on the floor as he holds Elena close to his body in mid-kiss. She giggles when his fingers tickle her side, but she knew that touch well. She unbuttons her flannel shirt, shrugging it off her shoulders before lowering down. Elena kisses Nathan’s strong jaw, her eager fingers inching closer to the hem of his jeans. Just as she hooks her digits over the button, she suddenly screams.

Nathan screams in response, moving to sit up and search for possible danger in the house. “Elena, what’s wrong?”

“Something jumped on me,” Elena answers, her fright fading as she and Nathan take the defensive approach. Cautiously, the couple scans the unfurnished kitchen and living area for signs of the culprit. “It could have been a rat or something,” she speaks softly. Elena hides her fear of the rodent species well, though her hand grips at Nathan’s hip to ground herself.

Nathan’s eyes turn up, and he spots the assailant. On the fridge perches a tan, fluffy feline who stares curiously down at the couple. “It’s not a rat, look,” he says, motioning with his head to the cat. He carefully eases Elena off his hips and comes to a stand. The slightest movement warrants the cat to create distance. 

“Be careful, Nate, we don’t know if it’s feral,” Elena warns, pulling her flannel back over her shoulders. She comes to a stand close to the island, watching her husband coo the cat from the fridge. Nathan always had an affinity for animals; his life never had room for pets, though it never prevented Nathan from taking the time to indulge in the wildlife. She is confident in Nathan’s skills, watching with a calm demeanor as Nathan reaches for the cat. “Before you ask, no, we can’t keep it, Nate.”

It’s no use talking to Nathan; he’s far gone in cuddling the cat. Elena smiles, admiring the scene. She wasn’t ready for children, yet she can see how well Nathan will be as a father. Elena’s relationship with her parents is textbook normal. She called her folks every week, visited on the holidays, and provide gifts on birthdays. Growing up as an only child, she had an equal amount of time with her parents, and they cultivated a loving relationship. Having a family of her own wasn’t even a thought until years later in her relationship with Nathan. 

Elena wasn’t sure about Nathan’s family history. Beyond Sully, she never heard Nathan speak of his parents. Her journalistic instincts begged her to dig into his life, although Elena respects and admires Nathan too much to steep that low. Neither of them spoke of children before marriage. After the whirlwind in Yemen, the two wanted to make quick amends and move forward. Elena knew that when Nathan is ready, he will open up about his life; until then, she’s happy with what she has.

“Nate?” Elena calls to her husband, and when she does, she’s met with puppy dog eyes and a pout. It’s hard to resist that look, though she steels herself and shakes her head firmly. “Nu-uh, puppy dog eyes didn’t work in Moscow, it won’t work now. The cat probably has a family, anyway.”

“Sorry little fella, guess you’re not becoming one of us.” 

The doorbell echos in the house, and Elena leans back to peer down the hallway. “Enjoy your time while it lasts, Nate,” she playfully warns him, leaving the room. 

Elena opens the door to see a young mother and father with their little daughter, holding tubberware. She tries her best not to compare herself to the youthful mother, reminding herself that it took several of lost treasures to settle down finally, which wasn’t typical for most women. “Hi, can I help you?”

The mother extends her hand, “Hello, we’re the Robinsons, your new neighbors. I’m Destinee, and this is my husband, John. The little mess of a girl is our daughter, Angelique.” Destinee reminds Elena of a Southern Belle, refined and posed with a strong Southern accent. Her husband is a burly man, who looks as if he doesn’t skip a day at the gym, yet he harbors a gentle demeanor. Their daughter, as the mother put it, is a mess. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks stain from tears; her hair bow barely hangs to her ponytail. Whatever the little one is going through, she’s enduring. “We moved into the neighborhood a few years ago, so we’re familiar with how stressful the process can be. So, we brought over dinner and dessert to get you settled in.”

Talk about Southern hospitality. Elena flushes with embarrassment, feeling out of place in this arrangement. She nevertheless reaches out to take the offerings with grace. “This is… wow… this is amazing, thank you, Destinee and John. Oh, I’m Elena Drake-Fisher” With her hands full, she feels the awkward tension building. “Come in, we don’t have a place to sit, but you can meet my husband.”

“Oh no, we don’t have to intrude,” John answers back, “we can come back another time.”

“It’ll be great, come on-- Nathan, we have guests!” Elena leads the way into the home; her heart was thumping a mile per minute. As she mentioned earlier, she can do near-death experiences, but social etiquette isn’t something she or Nathan are skilled at. She leads the young family to the front room, littered with unpacked boxes and Nathan. 

Soon as the Robinsons see Nathan, their eyes lit up. The young Angelique shrills in joy as she skips over to Nathan, “Rodney!” she cries out, lifting her hands to Nathan.

Nathan, caught off guard, looks nervously to Elena before feeling overwhelmed by the girl’s high-pitch squeal. It takes him a second to realize that Angelique knows the feline in his arms. “Ah, this little guy,” he comments, kneeling before the toddler.

“We’re so sorry about the cat,” Destinee says, “before you moved in, her cat snuck in here often. We assure you that it won’t happen again, and he didn’t cause any damage. If you see any damages--”

“Whoa, whoa,” Nathan interjects after handing off the cat, “it’s okay. We weren’t bothered by the cat-- oh, Nathan Drake, everyone calls me Nate, though.” He extends his hand to the couple for a firm shake.

“Nate, these are the Robinsons, Destinee and John, and their daughter Angelique. They were nice enough to bring over dinner for us.”

“No kidding? Wow, you don’t see this every day.”

Despite the Robinsons not fully understanding Nathan’s meaning, they perceived it through their lens. “Human decency is rare these days, but we try to make this neighborhood as welcoming as possible. If you ever need any help unpacking or a guide around town, we’re more than happy to help. Actually, Angelique’s birthday is tomorrow, and we are having a party in our back yard. You are more than welcome to drop by. We understand if you can’t make it with the move, but we will be happy to have you,” Destinee’s is a warm person that radiates in the room. Neither Elena nor Nathan have felt kindness in years. Their usual circle consists of sarcasm, smart-ass wit, guns, and thieves. It’s different but a good different.

“That’s really kind of you, thank you,” Elena answers, “we will be sure to drop by. Oh, here,” Elena takes out her phone from her jeans pocket, “let me give you my number.”

In the next few hours, the Drake-Fishers and Robinsons spend the night getting acquainted with each other. Nathan and Elena learn about the Robinsons’ life in New Orleans and how they met. While the Drakes didn’t divulge in the details, they express how their fondness for history and travel brought them together. Before either Nathan and Elena knew it, they made their first married friends, and life suddenly became more manageable. 

When it’s Angelique’s bedtime, the Robinsons say their goodbyes and leave for the night. Alone in the hallway, Nathan looks down at Elena with a lazy smile. “We just made friends.”

“We bought a house, and we made friends. I think we’re pretty good at this,” Elena smirks, lifting her hand to give Nathan a high-five.

“And Sully said we’d suck at this.”

“No, no, Sully said you would suck at this,” Elena corrects Nathan. “I’ve been in this game longer than you have, remember that.”

“Game? What game? You make it sound like wolves raised me.”

“I mean, Sully did raise you, so I guess, kind of sort of?”

“Oh, I’m telling Sully you said that.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” she replies sarcastically, “come on, Nate, let’s set up the bed.”

“What about the kitchen foreplay?”

“It’s our house now; we’ll have plenty of time for that later. Right now, I want to sleep in our bed.”

“I’m holding you to that. Let me lock up, and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Elena trots upstairs, disappearing into the master bedroom. Once she’s gone, reality slowly begins to weigh on Nathan. Today’s events are nothing short of amazing, although it’s not something encountered before. Suddenly, it reminds him that he wasn’t born into this world, Elena’s world. Suddenly, for the first time in fifteen years, he thought of his older brother. 

Sam adamantly reminded Sully that Nathan’s purpose is to be a thief and to discover the secrets of this world as their mother had. Sully argued that Nathan deserved normalcy, and he could achieve greatness anywhere in the world. The two often clashed over Nathan’s future, though always left it in Nathan’s hand to decide. Ultimately, Nathan knew his life would never be normal, and he became a treasure hunter. 

Now, he’s far from heists, lost cities, and deadly puzzles. He’s smack dab in normal. 

Nathan finishes locking up, and he moves to the stairs. He can barely climb up, knowing that somewhere in this house is Sam’s jacket and his mother’s notebook. Nathan eases down on the first step, lowering his head to rest on in his palms. His mind raced with thoughts of Sam and Sully, but also Elena. The Robinsons became a grim reminder that he doesn’t have an occupation, and a thief’s skillset is frowned upon in this world. He felt like an alien from a distant planet, struggling to comprehend daily rituals. Nathan began to wonder if Sam knew more than he let on. Suddenly, he began to doubt if he’s capable of achieving these goals. Slowly, the pressure built on his shoulders, and Nathan began to suffocate. The door is only a few steps away. Maybe he can call Charlie or Sully, hitch a ride to India. No, he couldn’t leave Elena; this is where he wants to be, where he’s meant to be. If that’s so, why is this difficult?

“Nate?”

Elena’s soft voice pierces through his anxieties. He lifts his head, turning to look at her at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?” The weak voice is all Elena needs to hear to climb down the stairs. She sits next to him, her arms snaking around his shoulders to pull him in close for a hug. Nathan wants to spill his thoughts, but he’s afraid he may frighten her if he does. He wraps his arms around her waist, whispering, “I love you.”

“I know,” Elena coos, kissing the back of Nathan’s neck. “It’s going to be okay.” She leans back, lifting Nathan’s chin, “Hey, hey, I know I said I knew what I’m doing, but ever since I’ve met you, Nate, nothing’s been normal for me. We’re both fish out of water here. We’re a team, Nathan, and we will see this through together.”

Nathan’s fingertips softly grace Elena’s cheek, “Who said I don’t know what I’m doing? I’m improvising.” 

What he says doesn’t convince her, though goes along with it to soothe Nathan. “That’s what you call it?”

“Yeah,” Nathan chuckles, tickling Elena’s sides, “that’s what I call it. Now, are we going to set up the bed or what?”

Elena stands up, tugging Nathan up along with her, “God, yes, I’m exhausted. Even if you snore tonight, it won’t wake me up; I’ll sleep like a baby.”

“I do not snore.”

“How do you know? You’re sleeping.”

Nathan opens his mouth to reply, only to realize her logic is sound. “You want my help or not?”

“Yes, please,” Elena kisses Nathan’s cheek, “I need my big, strong husband to help me with the bed.”

“That’s more like it.”


	3. Send in the Clowns

The afternoon sun rouses Nathan from his deep sleep. He shifts and stretches on his side of the bed, groaning to the stiff muscles twitching awake. On his forehead, he feels a ticklish sensation; Nathan hopes it's Elena's hair or Rodney the cat's fur. He opens his eyes to see a yellow rectangle obscuring his vision.

Nathan peels off the sticky note, one of many that will soon multiply in the Drake-Fisher household, and reads it. In Elena's handwriting, it says, "Out all morning for interviews. Will home for Angelique's bday party. -E"

Nathan admires his wife and how tenacious she is right off the bat. However, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Unlike him, she had degrees and experience to prove her worth in her field. Whoever reads her articles on modern-day pirates, warlords, and secret cults in the British government, will want her on their team. He's proud of her, always will be, yet he wishes he spent his life creating something tangible for the world to see.

Nathan holds onto the note carefully as he checks his watch. It's twelve, and if he remembers correctly, Angelique's party is in an hour. Nathan rolls out of bed, not bothering to make his side of the bed when Elena left hers a mess. However, he picks up Elena's discarded clothes from the floor and tosses them into the laundry basket to make the room seem a bit nicer.

Making coffee is his first task to complete, and Nathan stumbles down the stairs sleepily into the kitchen. Once he enters, he realizes the kitchenware remains packed. Then Nathan sees it, the second sticky note attached to a thermos. He peels it off, reading it, "Fresh coffee from a place down the street. -E"

Nathan chuckles, "You scored big time, Nate."

He searches the kitchen for the stack of sticky notes and finds them on the counter with her pen near the stove. Nathan tears off one and writes, "U R the best. I love you. -N." Immediately, he slaps the sticky notes in chronological order onto the fridge with a proud smile. It finally feels like their home.

The next forty minutes, Nathan unpacks and puts away all the kitchen items, washes the Tupperware from last night, drinks his coffee, and finally settles down. He curls up on the floor with a fresh journal. Using Elena's pen, Nathan sketches his wife and their new house from memory on one page, and on the next, Rodney, the cat. He adds more fur than the cat has for comic effect. Nathan chuckles at his artist's rendition of his feline neighbor. For the final touch, he draws a speech bubble over the cat that reads:  _ I Hate Mondays _ .

Nathan nearly misses the doorbell in the middle of his sketching. Whoever is at the door is adamant about being seen as the doorbell rings multiple times. "All right, I'm coming!" Nathan cries out, hopping to his feet. "Trigger happy much?"

The neighborhood is far more secure than Marlow's secret underground hideout, so Nathan doesn't bother checking the peephole. He twists the knob and opens the door to see a tall, bulky clown. The red face paint around the eyes makes the clown look far happier than any person should be, but there's a painted tear underneath the eye, and Nathan loses it. He screams and slams the door, instinctively locking it. 

"Whoa, hey!! What's the deal? You hired me!" the clown bangs at the door and rings the doorbell. "I'm not leaving without getting paid!"

"What the hell?! No one ordered a clown!!"

"Oh great, a prank caller. Mr. Robinsons, I don't find this funny. The Clown Union will hear about this!"

"Clown Union?" Nathan whispers, "there's more of them?" It does take him a second to break away from his nightmare of being surrounded by clowns to recognize the name Robinsons. "Wait, wrong house, pal. Robinsons is next door."

There's an eerie silence beyond the door. Nathan waits, peering cautiously through the peephole. He half expects to see the clown, but thankfully it's a clear view across the street. Nathan sighs in relief and rubs his face, "A clown... who hires a clown to a party?"

Nathan's back vibrates to another knock, and he tenses up, half ready to give this clown a piece of his mind. He quickly opens the door to face his fear. 

"I said you have the wrong house," Nathan says aggressively to John Robinsons' face. "Crap, John… your clown came by here."

John squints his eyes in confusion, "You do know I don't own him?"

"Is it even a him? I'd say It."

"Not a fan of clowns?"

"Yeah, not my thing. Sorry for the whole," Nathan trails off

"It's cool, Nate. So I take it I won't see you at Angelique's party?"

"Crap, no, no, I'll go. It's the least I can do to repay your family for last night. I got your dishes all washed, come in." Nathan opens the door for John to enter; he suspiciously looks outside for the clown before closing and locking the door behind him. 

"If clowns bug you that much, you don't have to come," John says, understandably and follows Nathan into the kitchen, "Tell you what, come by after the party, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Nathan doesn't like the sound of that. He appreciates John reaching out to connect, yet he hates for his neighbor to catch on that he doesn't know the social etiquette of living in a neighborhood. He's had multiple apartments through the years, but they were only a place to crash in between jobs. Nathan never made one homey enough to stay for longer than a few months. All he needed before Elena was a bed, bathroom, and kitchen.

"Uh oh, am I in trouble? Don't tell me you're part of the Clown Union." Nathan says, handing John over the Tupperware.

"The what? No, no, Nate, you've been a great neighbor so far. I met with your wife this morning while coming back from the gym. She mentioned you're looking for a job, and I might have a few lined up for you."

Nathan didn't expect John to offer aid. He wasn't precisely happy Elena informed someone that he's jobless; it wasn't a breach of trust, but it did hurt his pride. Nathan doesn't hold it against Elena. He understood her motives. In their line of work, well their former line of work, contacts make and break a job. Building relationships are essential to ensuring the success and opportunities in every heist, job, or even transportation. It didn't matter who the contact is, as long as there's a reward in it. 

"Really? Thanks, John; I appreciate it. Nothing with office work or retail, I hope. I've got a problem with authority and cubicles."

"Your wife mentioned that. She said you're more fit for blue-collar work, which in my God honest opinion, is far more important than pencil pushers. I know a guy who needs some help at his company. Have you and your wife come by around five and I can let you in on the details."

Nathan spent the entire night tossing and turning, fearing about making ends meet. Of course, Nathan has money. In offshore bank accounts, he has enough to pay off the house, the car, and Elena's ring. Sully warned him not to spend it all at once to avoid suspicion from the government. Charlie is his man for transfers. He puts the money in his and Elena's joint-account under the guise of royalties from Elena's work. It's a far more straightforward process than Nathan believes. Still, with men like Sully and Charlie to keep the feds off Nathan's back, he didn't have to worry until the funds ran out. 

Getting a job wasn't about money. Elena could keep them secure with her occupation, but like hell will Nathan sit around the house doing absolutely nothing. There's no way he could leave town to travel without Elena, and vacations may be far in between now they're settled, but Nathan needed something to do. 

"Wow, you have no idea how much this means to me," Nathan breathes out, actually near breathless at the show of kindness.

"Listen, Nate, you're a part of the neighborhood, and I take care of my neighborhood. You need anything at all, I'm your goto guy." 

"Hey, likewise; if you ever need something out from a really tall tree, I'm your man."

"A climber, huh? Good to hear, now I know you'll like this job. Listen, I have to head back to the party, and you're still welcomed but probably best to come when the clown's gone."

"No offense, I'd ruin the mood with my screaming," Nathan jokes, leading John to the front door. "I'll be sure to come by with Elena in the evening. Hey, John, thanks again," Nathan holds out his hand to shake John's, "You're a lifesaver."

"You give me too much credit, Nate. I'll see you later," John waves as he exits the home with the Tupperware.

Maybe this world wasn't as terrifying as Nathan thought. 


End file.
